


The Transport

by LuvEwan



Series: Recovery [2]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt Obi-Wan, Major Character Injury, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Qui-Gon Lives, Worried Qui-Gon, Written for the QuiObi Writing Discord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuvEwan/pseuds/LuvEwan
Summary: Obi-Wan's life is in jeopardy following his devastating injury on Naboo. On the medical ship heading back to Coruscant, Anakin wonders and Qui-Gon worries. Obi-Wan comes out of the bacta tank.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Recovery [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862353
Comments: 14
Kudos: 339
Collections: Obsession of the Month: Obi-Wan Kenobi





	The Transport

**Author's Note:**

> This series is a collaborative effort by the members of the QuiObi Writing Discord.
> 
> Updates will be posted every other Sunday.

Anakin tucked his knees against his chest. The Queen’s starship had been _wizard_ ; the medical transport was so much colder. No matter where he went (not that he was allowed to go anywhere really, he’d been steered into the empty room by someone in white clothes as soon as they boarded) it smelled like this awful stuff Mom used to slather on his cuts after a race. He remembered how it burned. 

On the starship he usually found someone to talk to: Jar Jar, Captain Olie, one of the handmaidens or even Padme. They were gone now, as far away as Mom and home. He wondered if he would see any of them again. Mister—no, _Master _Qui-Gon told him Jedi didn’t stay in one place very long.__

__Anakin swallowed a lump in his throat. The little room was freezing. Silver steel and white walls, medical equipment covered in plastic sheeting. He had nowhere else to sit but the cot. Nothing to do. He really hated it. His brain got so antsy, and his skin was still thrumming like crazy anyway from the space battle._ _

__It was the most dangerous thing he’d ever done, way worse than anything he’d tried in a pod. Mom would’ve flipped, but for Anakin, his heart was hooked up to that engine and he didn’t need to think at all._ _

__He wondered if that was what it was like to be a Jedi, to not be scared of the scariest stuff, to soar through darkness and only feel the stars._ _

__But even though Master Qui-Gon kept saying he could be a good Jedi, Anakin wasn’t so sure. Now that the battle was over, he felt fear creeping up his throat, just like the old green Jedi had warned him about._ _

__He had so much to be afraid of. Would he get all the way back to Coruscant and then find out he couldn’t be trained? Would he end up alone?_ _

__Would Obi-Wan..._ _

__He wasn’t used to all this Force stuff yet. It still felt like his gut talking to him, not whatever those guys on the Council said. And his gut felt all churny right now._ _

__He shifted on the thin mattress and the base creaked. Anakin bit his lip. No one had told him to be quiet, but that’s what adults almost always wanted. Plus this transport was one big sickbay. During those rare times Mom was sick enough to stay in bed, Anakin played outside because she needed “ _peace and quiet_ ”. _ _

__He could hear her voice, as closely as if she was sitting beside him. Anakin sighed and leaned his cheek against a knee. Thinking about Mom suddenly drained the last of the frenetic energy inside him, and he felt squeezed out._ _

__His eyes were just starting to droop when he heard the door swoosh open and Master Qui-Gon walked in._ _

__Anakin’s stomach flipped. He sat up straighter. “Sorry, the bed’s loud, I wasn’t trying to—“_ _

__But Qui-Gon waved his hand. A small smile twitched the corner of his mouth, and the beard hairs around it. Already the room seemed less cold. “You haven’t been loud, Anakin. You needn’t worry about that.” He hooked his fingers into his belt. “How are you doing?” Qui-Gon asked softly. His clothes were kind of crumpled, his long hair only half-tamed. No one back home would believe Anakin if he told them Jedi weren’t invincible._ _

__He wouldn’t have believed it either, just a couple days ago._ _

__“I’m okay,” Anakin answered. An ugly demon-looking _bashoota_ hadn’t stuck him with a lightsaber, so he couldn’t exactly complain about missing his Mom or his bed. _ _

__Anakin glanced up at Qui-Gon. He’d seen big humans before, he’d seen all kinds passing through Mos Espa, but no one like Qui-Gon. He was super tall, and so strong. More than anything, he was _nice_. He didn’t use his size to loom over Anakin or intimidate him. He had a really kind, gentle voice too. _ _

__Anakin wished he didn’t notice the way Qui-Gon’s wide shoulders were all slumped. He scooted over on the cot and patted the empty space beside him. “You wanna sit here?”_ _

__Qui-Gon smiled and wiped his beard. “Thank you, young one. That’s very kind.” It wasn’t much room, but the big man perched on the edge, letting go of a breath like he’d been holding it for a long time._ _

__Anakin looked at his own hands. He always had dirt under his fingernails. He curled them under his sleeves and cleared his throat. “It’s pretty boring here.” He admitted, and immediately regretted being that honest. “I mean, I didn’t mean—“_ _

__“No, it’s alright, Ani. I appreciate your candor. You’ll learn quickly that the life of a Jedi isn’t only swashbuckling adventures. Often you will be required to just...wait.”_ _

__The last word sounded heavy, tired. Anakin crossed his arms around his waist. His waiting was different from Master Qui-Gon’s waiting. Anakin felt impatient, almost itchy. He wanted to burst out of his skin and become something new, even though he wasn’t sure what that meant, or what he would be._ _

__He swung his legs back and forth a few times, then realized it was probably an annoying thing to do. He looked up at Qui-Gon. “One time I knew this guy and a giant hunk of scrap fell on him at Watto’s shop. Kittster saw it all happen. He said the guy was totally flattened. He was a pretty nice guy. My mom lit a candle for him and put it in the kitchen window.”_ _

__Qui-Gon touched Anakin’s shoulder. “That was kind of her. I’m sorry for your friend.”_ _

__“But he didn’t die. Even though he should’ve. And he wasn’t even a Jedi. He was just a guy. So if some scrawny guy from Mos Eisley can live through that, it seems like Obi-Wan should be okay, you know?”_ _

__He had said the wrong thing again. Qui-Gon’s eyes fell, and his answering smile seemed forced._ _

__“I certainly hope so, Anakin.”_ _

__Anakin’s stomach squirmed. _I hope he’ll be okay_ was a whole lot different than _He_ will _be okay_. If Obi-Wan wasn’t okay, Anakin was pretty sure nothing else would matter. If the Council people let him be trained, would Master Qui-Gon even do it? _ _

__A long-fingered hand squeezed his knee. “The Force often has unexpected plans for us.” Qui-Gon said. “Finding the reason can be difficult, especially if it seems...meaningless. Or cruel. A damaged hyperdrive forced the Queen’s ship to stop on Tatooine. A meaningless detour, except it was how I found you.”_ _

__Anakin ducked his head to hide his smile. Qui-Gon kind of reminded him of Mom—they were the only two people in the Universe who acted like he was a treasure or something. Him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t really read, or that he’d spent his whole life as a slave, or all the mean things Watto and Sebulba and some of the other kids said to him. To Master Qui-Gon, Anakin was special._ _

__And it hurt to know Qui-Gon was hurting._ _

__“Maybe this is a detour too?” Anakin ventured, glancing up. “What happened to Obi-Wan isn’t good, but something good might come out of it, you know? It’s just hard to see the reason yet.”_ _

__Qui-Gon paused, like he was thinking it over. “Perhaps you’re right.”_ _

__Warmth seeped into Anakin’s chest, easing some of the fear. The future would be bright as long as there were people lighting candles._ _

__—-_ _

__Qui-Gon found the boy some prepackaged food and juice bulbs. He remembered then that he’d uncovered Anakin’s rucksack—it had been lost in the jumble of the last several days. When he presented the sack to Anakin, his blue eyes widened._ _

__“My stuff!” and he immediately began sifting through the contents. He glanced up at Qui-Gon. “Thanks.”_ _

__He felt the happy flutter of relief in the Force. Qui-Gon allowed himself a moment to smile. So many things were about to change for Anakin Skywalker. For the better, he hoped._ _

__But his concern for Obi-Wan darkened his musings, and he stepped toward the door. “I need to be with Obi-Wan now, Ani. You should sleep. It’s been a long day. If you need anything else, let me know.”_ _

__Anakin was hugging the rucksack to his chest, legs dangling over the side of the bed. He looked like the innocent child that he was. “Sure thing, Mister Qui-Gon.”_ _

__——-_ _

___It’s been a long day._ _ _

__Qui-Gon started the walk back to Obi-Wan. The Naboo emphasized beauty in most aspects of their culture, but this medical ship was little different than others he’d visited: sterile white rooms, metal corridors and a pervasive sense of dread. He had spent more time than he liked in such places. Pacing, healing, worrying. Endless nights._ _

___It‘s been a long day._ _ _

__His mind gibbered with misplaced humor at the words. How could the events of the last twenty four hours be called a _day_? And yet the last time he slept, only the night before, Obi-Wan had been well and whole. _ _

__Obi-Wan. His Padawan. Somehow, a man of vulnerable flesh. A body that could--that _was_ \---cut down. Another man would not have lived beyond the brutal blow._ _

__He had seen the Sith’s red blade plunge mercilessly into Obi-Wan. He could not stop seeing it. The smell of burnt flesh clogged his nostrils. He had carried his wounded apprentice through the generator core out into the hangar bay’s bracing light. The Force guided him to help, and it was with relief and trepidation that he gave Obi-Wan over to the Naboo healers._ _

__Then he had nearly fallen over, arms too light. It seemed a betrayal to trust his survival to strangers. He had wanted to give everything of himself over to his Padawan. He would have poured his very life into Obi-Wan, and he had felt—still felt—that he failed him by not dying for him._ _

__He knew it was impossible. He couldn’t take the wound from him. Qui-Gon ghosted his fingers over his midsection, along the same spot where Obi-Wan was struck._ _

__There was a good chance no one could save Obi-Wan. The healers were certainly not optimistic. He was offered careful, brief words (“he has survived so far”, “his heart is beating”, “we will do all that we can”) but it was their eyes he noticed._ _

__The pity._ _

__Qui-Gon’s chest tightened and his steps slowed. He reached for that luminous, familiar presence in the Force. But his apprentice was unconscious, drugged and submerged in bacta. He sensed little from him except a distant pulse of light, so fragile that Qui-Gon was hesitant to reach for it._ _

__He swallowed the sour thickness in his throat. His eyes blurred. Everything had happened quickly after the duel, Obi-Wan taken from the palace to a hospital, the doctors there stitching him up for the trip to Coruscant, because it was obvious he needed the particular expertise of the Jedi healers. The young Queen’s triumph, Anakin’s remarkable space battle—Qui-Gon understood these other things had happened, at the same time he was trapped behind the energy wall, watching his Padawan crumple to the floor, but he could not properly digest those events or their implications right now._ _

__Instead he saw the Sith’s feral grin. He heard the surprised gasp from Obi-Wan as he was gutted, the sick slap of his body hitting the generator floor. He felt the uncontrollable shivers wracking Obi-Wan’s body, when Qui-Gon had cradled him close._ _

___What if that was the last time I will ever hold him?_ _ _

__The question hung in the murky ether of his thoughts. He kept walking._ _

__——-_ _

__The medical team was set up in the largest operating room on the ship. Obi-Wan had spent the entire journey immersed in the bacta tank, closely monitored._ _

__Qui-Gon slipped inside the room, nodding to the nurses who lifted their heads to regard him. Obi-Wan had reacted badly to the bright fluorescent lights when he was boarded, so the room had been dimmed to a soft grey. Qui-Gon didn’t want to leave his Padawan at all, but Anakin was his responsibility. And he did not want the boy to see Obi-Wan this way, masked and drugged, submerged in the viscous bacta._ _

__It was hard enough for Qui-Gon to watch him. Obi-Wan despised bacta. His Master had long suspected a near-drowning in Obi-Wan’s youth contributed to his aversion, coupled with some mild claustrophobia. The boy would plead with Qui-Gon for alternative healing methods, or conceal his injuries completely._ _

___Afraid of bacta, but throws himself headlong into extreme danger._ _ _

__A stubborn, brave apprentice. Qui-Gon’s heart contracted with worried affection. He noticed a medic walking toward him, just as a warning shrieked in the Force, in unison with Obi-Wan’s monitors._ _

__Obi-Wan clawed at the face mask, the whites of his eyes wide and stark even through the bacta._ _

__“He’ll aspirate,” He heard one of the medics say with urgency._ _

__“No!” Qui-Gon barked. He ran across the room. Obi-Wan, gasping and keening, was pulled from the tank._ _

__He stood outside the throng of medics, trying to see past shoulders and hands and scanners. Obi-Wan was far too weak to put up a fight beyond his initial reaction in the tank. Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan’s desperate confusion in the Force._ _

__And pain. A flood of pain._ _

__Qui-Gon was breathless from it. He staggered after his Padawan, who was being laid out on a gurney. The lead doctor peered into Obi-Wan’s eyes with a small, handheld light. Obi-Wan stirred feebly, but did not offer answers to any of the doctor’s questions beyond a low, constant groan. Stoic nurses were inserting IVs and wiping away the bacta, a gelatinous afterbirth that coated Obi-Wan’s skin and slicked his hair._ _

__The doctor glanced up at Qui-Gon. “Master Jedi,” she said, motioning for him. “Perhaps you can calm him.”_ _

__Qui-Gon moved to Obi-Wan’s bedside, wrapping a slender, cold hand in both of his own. Obi-Wan continued moaning, though Qui-Gon felt the smallest returned pressure. His heart leapt._ _

__“Obi-Wan,” he called with a soft, insistent urgency, “Padawan, can you look at me?”_ _

__Obi-Wan’s head was slack, turned to the side. His eyelids struggled and his face twisted from effort and pain. “Mmmm….”_ _

__Qui-Gon choked back a gasp. It could not be Obi-Wan on the gurney. No, this broken voice and bloodless face was worlds apart from the boy he’d raised. No, no…_ _

__A nurse cleaned tears and bacta from his cheeks with a damp cloth. Several medics were gathered at the saber wound, talking in low tones with each other._ _

__Qui-Gon could not look. He knew the charred hole in his Padawan was unbandaged from the tank, but he would not look at it. He would stay with Obi-Wan, guide him away from the physical self, towards the strength and comfort of the Force._ _

__He held Obi-Wan’s hand tighter. “Padawan, look at me. Let me see your eyes, young one.”_ _

__Obi-Wan rolled his head forward. His lashes fluttered. “Mmmmm…..” he tried to say again, before collapsing into a quiet, sustained wail._ _

__The doctor touched Qui-Gon’s shoulder. “He should not be conscious with the amount of sedative he’s been given.”_ _

__Qui-Gon shook his head, eyes still on Obi-Wan. Rising concern needled his senses. “He is a Jedi. Typical sedatives and painkillers aren’t always enough. I can feel some of what he’s feeling. It is...tremendous.”_ _

__“Obi-Wan?” The doctor said in a firm, clear voice. “Can you rate your pain? One to ten?”_ _

__Obi-Wan groaned._ _

__Qui-Gon and the doctor glanced at each other. “Padawan,” Qui-Gon tried, “I know it hurts. We want to help you. Can you tell me how much pain you’re feeling?” He paused, thinking. “Can you trace your pain level in my palm? One to ten, alright?” He rubbed Obi-Wan’s thumb and index finger, watching for a response from his tight face. “Let’s try, young one. Write the number on my hand.”_ _

__Obi-Wan grimaced, but nodded. He dragged his finger along Qui-Gon’s palm._ _

__“That’s it, that’s good, Padawan. Keep going.”_ _

__A few more focused movements, then Obi-Wan’s hand slipped from Qui-Gon’s, the effort draining him._ _

__Qui-Gon stood, looking down at Obi-Wan, his long Padawan braid dark and wet and clinging to his bare, heaving chest._ _

__“Ten,” he answered the doctor quietly._ _

__A coordinated flurry was set off by the word. He heard more monitors rolled in, droids trilling and medics discussing medication options._ _

__For Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan’s answer had not been surprising. He could feel the intensity of his Padawan’s injury, already suspected it was merely a fraction of the actual sensations Obi-Wan was experiencing. Qui-Gon struggled to clear his throat, heart pounding. “Ah, he has a habit of downplaying his pain, doctor. A ten from him is likely an understatement.”_ _

__Just the echoes of the pain was enough to make Qui-Gon nauseous and lightheaded. “You’re doing so well, Padawan,” he murmured, leaning in close, while the medical team moved around them. He stroked his hand through Obi-Wan’s damp hair, and it stood up in random spikes. He smiled briefly, remembering all the times Obi-Wan lamented his riotous auburn hair and how it was ill-suited for the regulation Padawan cut._ _

__“We’re trying a new cocktail to manage the pain. He really should be asleep through this.” The doctor said. She was running a scanner along Obi-Wan’s legs, up to his abdomen and chest, likely checking for clots and internal bleeding._ _

__Qui-Gon was not a doctor. He detached himself from the technical details of Obi-Wan’s condition. His focus, his ability to help, lay elsewhere. He gathered what healing Force energy he could and settled a wide palm across Obi-Wan’s forehead._ _

__“The pain cannot take you, my Padawan,” Qui-Gon whispered. “I am here.”_ _

__Obi-Wan sighed, relaxing against the gurney. Someone covered his shoulders and chest with a blanket, then another. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes. Qui-Gon wiped them away._ _

__He noticed more activity at the end of the gurney. Nurses brought new bandages as the doctor inspected the wound._ _

__“We are lucky for the cauterization but this tissue is ruined. Pia, bring the light.”_ _

__Panic scrambled to take hold of him. Qui-Gon cast it off.. He would not allow Obi-Wan to sense his fear._ _

__The doctor wanted Obi-Wan to sleep, yet Qui-Gon instinctively resisted the idea. Sleep, in Obi-Wan’s perilous condition, seemed too close to…_ _

__No._ _

__Obi-Wan had come this far, survived the first Sith in modern memory and endured unthinkable pain. Things would improve once they arrived at the Temple._ _

__“Mmmm…..” Obi-Wan managed again, his hand drifting near Qui-Gon’s sleeve, searching._ _

__He realized what Obi-Wan was trying to say._ _

___“Master.”_ _ _

__Qui-Gon pressed his forehead against Obi-Wan’s and swallowed a threatening sob. “Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, I will not leave you. Please don’t leave me. Please. Trust in the Force, Padawan.”_ _

__The stronger sedatives must have hit; Obi-Wan’s fingers found Qui-Gon’s wrist, brushing against it before falling back on the gurney, and his apprentice’s eyes shut._ _

__The doctor came to him after a few minutes. “He is as stable as he can be, considering. We are indebted to you both. It is not only my fervent hope as a physician that he lives, but my hope as a citizen of Naboo, Master Jedi.”_ _

__Qui-Gon smiled and tipped his head. “Thank you, healer. Is it alright if I stay with him?”_ _

__Her eyes softened. “Of course.”_ _

__A nurse brought him a chair, then water and food. Again Qui-Gon waved off the doctor’s opinion that he be examined. “I’m fine, thank you.” If he was bruised, he couldn’t feel it. He had suffered only superficial injuries, while his Padawan…_ _

__He looked down and forced himself to breathe in, out. _Trust in the Force_ , he had told Obi-Wan today, and countless times before. _ _

__He could not quite take his own advice._ _


End file.
